


Elfebruary One-Shots

by Quinny_Imp



Series: A Wolf and Three Crows [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_Imp/pseuds/Quinny_Imp
Summary: Elfebruary 2019These are short stories following writing (and sometimes drawing) prompts for Elfebruary 2019.





	1. Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place shortly after Tresspasser. Ivvie wakes up to a strange sensation.

Ivvie woke up in the middle of the night. Something woke him up. At first he was so confused that he just lay there, pawing at the sheets on his left side with his right hand. Then things became clearer… and at the same time not.

His forearm was itchy. His _missing_ forearm was itchy. But it wasn’t there, how could it itch!

He sat up, looking at the stump that was left after what used to be his arm. He felt like stretching fingers, he felt like something was crawling on his skin and caused the itch. But there _was nothing there_!

Was he losing his mind? Was he going crazy? Why did he feel tingling of the anchor? Was he imagining everything?

He fell back on the pillow, frustrated. The itch was becoming more annoying, and there was no way he could get rid of it. There was nothing to scratch!


	2. Locked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris was left behind barely alive when Danarius escaped Seheron. The Fog Warriors found him.

Fenris slowly opened his eyes. He heard a sound, and only after a moment realised it had been him: he’d grunted in pain.

“Shhh, you’re safe,” a soft voice said, and someone gently touched his shoulder.

He tried to move away from the hand, and it was promptly taken away.

“You must be in a lot of pain,” the same voice said. Then a woman’s face hovered over him. His eyes were still adapting to light, so her face was smudged. “It should go away soon.”

“Where… am…” he tried to ask, but the words scratched his throat.

She put a wet leaf on his lips, and he sucked the water in. She took away the leaf, then touched his lips with it again. She repeated it several more times, until he felt slightly better.

“We found you barely alive after the ship with your people left.”

“Not my people,” he said angrily. He tried to sit up, but failed.

“Don’t get up,” she said. “You’re still very weak.”

He felt trapped in his own body. On his back, vulnerable, defenceless. “I must–”

“You must nothing here,” she smiled. Her face was clearer now. “Everybody here does as they please.”

“Who are you?”

She smiled. “Rest. Sleep now. You will see soon.”

“I can’t. He’ll be back.”

“We won’t let him take you. And you are in no condition to go anywhere. You are safe here.”

He wanted to protest, to explain, to tell her she didn’t understand, but fatigue was stronger, and soon overwhelmed him. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


	3. Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran was sent to find an eliminate a runaway Crow.
> 
> Takes place just before "A Crow's Daughter" starts.

He still didn’t know where his mark was, but the information he’d just got could be useful. The man had been chatty, and conveniently brought up Zevran’s accent, taking the conversation to another man with one like that who lived somewhere nearby, and who had a daughter.

So, the Crow traitor was somewhere in this neighbourhood. Now to find out where exactly.

He’d asked about the daughter, and the man became even more chatty. Gingerhead, pretty, unusual eyes. Feisty for her young age.

With her description, he should be able to easily find her, no?

He’d been told she visited the local tavern for a meal often in evenings, so he decided to wait and see if it’d be his lucky night.

Sitting in shadows, drawing as little attention as he could, he observed carefully the people in the market. He spotted a red headed woman, but she seemed too old. The daughter was in her late teens years, he’d been told.

Then he saw her, and without doubt was sure it was the right person. Her hair was like fire, tied up in a high bun. Her eyes had a shape of almond nuts, green like grass. She was thin, small breasted, and the most sexy thing he’d seen in a while. He hoped he’d have a chance to bed her before – or while – extracting the information on her father he needed. It’d be such a shame if he had to kill her too.

He watched her, as she window shopped around the market. Graceful like a halla. He loved when his work could be mixed with pleasure.

Eventually she went to the tavern, so he stood up, and followed her. Time to work!


	4. Wildlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place when Nadami fulfilled Eeyo's father wish, and left him with the Dalish, as promised. Eeyo was not happy about that at all.

Eeyo didn’t mind work. It kept his mind off the other thoughts. Off his anger. The thought of Nadami still made him upset and disappointed.

Today was his first day to care for the clan’s halla. He was to report to the halla keeper, Fiorill, and follow her instructions.

He’d heard of halla, but had never seen one until now, and the view was… majestic! As he approached Fiorill, his eyes were on the graceful animals.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she smiled at him.

He only nodded. She handed him a bucket filled with something. “Feed them. It’s something special I prepared for them.”

He took it, and went among the halla. A few moved away from the unknown elf, but a couple approached him, curious.

Bribing them with food helped him gain their trust. His next task was to brush them. Then find one that had moved too far from the whole group, and was lost.

It took only a day for him to grow very fond of them. There was something about them he found extremely appealing. Their freedom but willingness to stay with the clan. Their caution but almost affection after gaining their trust. Their pure, wild beauty.

For a day, he was happy.


	5. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One sunny day in Antiva...
> 
> Takes place during "A Crow's Daughter" story after their arrival to Antiva, before they set off to Tevinter.

Eeyo watched Fenris, Zevran and Nadami argue about something. Something small, not really important. Nadami’s feelings were the most obvious; she wore them like clothes, be it affection or anger. Fenris looked more frowny than usually, barking his words like a mabari, cussing in Tevene. Zevran seemed the most composed, shaking his head, smirking at their words, but Eeyo knew him well enough to see he wasn’t as indifferent as he appeared.

Sometimes, when they argued, Eeyo was terrified. He feared something would break, something would get damaged, and cause their relationship to fall apart. Someone would leave to never return. And he would lose one or two of them.

He couldn’t bear the thought. He barely remembered his mother. He had been only six when she’d been killed by the undead that raided Redcliff every night when that stupid mage boy had been possessed by a demon. He would never forget finding his father’s dead body, lifeless eyes and cold hands.

Nadami had taken care of him then. No questions asked, no payment or favour expected in return. She’d promised, and she’d fulfilled that promise, in spite of Eeyo’s resistance.

He was still embarrassed about his behaviour back then. She deserved better than that. Now, if he had to choose, he’d stay with her. He’d miss Fenris and Zevran, but he knew he’d stay with her no matter what. He couldn’t even tell why.

He hoped the day of such a choice would never come, though. He’d lost his home to a slaver raid. He’d lost his parents to poor leadership of nobles. Now the only home and the only parents he had was this trio of misfits: a former Tevinter slave, an Antivan Crow, and a nomad Fereldan human, who worked together not because they had a common goal, but because they loved each other and wanted to be together.

His physical home was long gone. Now his home was where these three were, and he felt grateful they let him stay and tag along with them, wherever their adventures took them.

Zevran grabbed Nadami’s head, and kissed her. She grunted, tearing herself out, rolled her eyes and shouted something about being serious. Fenris raked his bangs behind his ears, mumbled something quietly, and made Zevran laugh.

The little crisis was over. She was going to tell them she loved them by the evening; Zevran was going to tell naughty jokes even before that, and Fenris was going to randomly give them kisses. Eeyo’s home was whole.

He hoped this time his family was indestructible.


	6. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also takes place during "A Crow's Daughter" story after their arrival to Antiva, before they set off to Tevinter.

Fenris woke up so early it was still mostly dark. Nevertheless, he felt rested, so decided to get up. Quietly, not to wake up Zevran or Nadami, he slid off the bed, and slowly made his way toward the door.

Before leaving the room, he turned to look at them both to make sure he hadn’t awaken either.

First rays of sun shone through the window, landing on the pillows. Zevran’s golden hair reflected the light, creating a halo around his head. His silky hair was spread all around his face, partially covering it as he slept on his side, and seemed to have its own shine stolen from the sun. His dark, tan skin was in contrast with the brightness of his sunny mane. His expression was soft, innocent, gentle. Without a naughty smirk he looked so delicate, so vulnerable. A complete opposite of what he really was.

As the sun moved, so did its rays. They reached Nadami’s hair, and exposed the fire that burnt within it. As usual, she slept on her belly, with her face in the pillow, so her hair was the only visible part of her head.

Zevran moved, and his arm bounced off Nadami’s body. She growled sleepily, turned on her side to face him, and wrapped herself around him: her leg around his, her arm around his waist, her head hidden in his chest.

Fenris felt a strong urge to join the bundle.

He hesitated. There was nothing waiting for him or urgent to be done this early.

He went back to bed, and laid down next to Nadami. He entangled his leg with theirs, put his arm encompassing them both, and put his head on the level with Zevran’s. He looked at the Antivan’s lovely face. The sun made his hair look like a crown now, and his long eyelashes cast even longer shadows.

Still not sleepy, Fenris enjoyed the touch of their skins. He revelled in slightly more intensive impression that touch left on his markings. He listened to their calm, even breathing. Zev’s soon turned into quiet snoring, which brought a smile to the Tevinter’s face.

The sun moved and now shone in his eyes. He closed them, and just enjoyed other sensations.

Until he fell asleep.


	7. Get Out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris was wounded in combat.

Nadami leant over Fenris’s wound with a deep, worried frown. “It’s not healing properly.”

The Tevinter slightly moved his shoulder, and winced in pain. “It’s been bothering me a bit more since the morning.”

“I think it’s infected.” She gently removed the rest of the dressing to replace it with a new one.

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbled.

“Yes, but it will take more time than it should.” She looked up at Zevran. “With the mess with mages in Ferelden, what’s going on with the Circles over here?” she asked him. “We need a healing mage.”

Fenris abruptly stood up, and stepped away from her. “No mage will touch me!” he roared.

“You need healing!” she protested, taken aback by his violent reaction.

“It will heal. Just will take longer, that is all.”

“But you’re in pain!” Her heart ached each time he winced or in any other way showed discomfort.

“I can endure it. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

She looked to Eeyo, who very quickly left the room avoiding looking at her. Then to Zevran. “Say something! Help me!”

“What do you want me to do? Fight him?”

Her eyebrows drew together in anger. “Whatever is necessary.”

“Oh, so you made me promise to never tie him up for pleasure,” the Antivan said annoyed, crossing his arms on his chest, “but it’s fine if I tie him up against his will, and drag to a mage kicking and screaming?”

“That’s not what I mean!” Her frustration was growing.

“No mages!” Fenris shouted. “Don’t you dare!” He pointed his finger at her.

“You need help!” she countered, losing control over her voice’s calm.

“ _Fasta vass!_ Not from a mage!” he yelled back. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum!_ ”

“Uggrrh!” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “You want to moan in pain all night? Fine by me!” The last three words were yelled in his face. “Moron!” She stormed out of the room.

“So it is possible to infuriate her, mmm?” Zevran quipped.

The look Fenris gave him made him shrunk, and quickly leave the room too.


	8. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after Anders blew up the chantry, as Hawke and Co. were on their way to the Gallows.

Fenris watched the demon disperse in the air, leaving only heat behind. Then his eyes found a body; half burnt, fully dead. He’d reached the demon too late for this poor sod. Somewhere deep inside his chest bubbled a growl. How many more? How many innocents will die because of this?

He looked around, hoping to see Hawke alive and well. He spotted her with relief. At first he thought she was tired, but there was more in her face. Hurt. Worry. Maybe even disappointment.

He knew she and Anders were good friend. Somehow, she could look past his annoying ‘mage rights’ rhetoric, and see more in there, but he had no idea what. An abomination was an abomination. Anders had almost killed an innocent girl he’d wanted to rescue – because he was taken over. That should have been the first – and the only needed! – warning sign. He was not in control. He was not ‘just another mage’. He was a threat.

And now he had proven that. The destruction of the Chantry, the deaths of people who’d died in there, and now even more falling victims to demons unleashed by uncontrolled, rebelling mages – BLOOD mages! – overshadowed even the rampage the Qunari had unleashed a few years ago.

That was why the Circles were needed. That was why the mages needed to be kept under control. Right before his eyes they revealed their true nature. Left to their own devices, they turned into demons, murdering whoever stood in their way, even if an accidental passer-by.

Hawke looked at him, and his heart ached at her expression. There was so much pain on her face. While he raged at Anders’s betrayal, she hurt. They used to be good friends, and now she’d discovered he had used her to do his vile deed.

After the Chantry had exploded, he felt an urge to cut Anders down then and there. He didn’t out of respect for her. She’d even tried to convince the mage to join them, but he’d refused. Fenris knew that if they met again, only one would walk away. Not for the Chantry. Not for Kirkwall residents. For Hawke’s hurting heart. She’d been used, and Fenris didn’t like people being used. People were not tools. Not slaves to do others’ deeds.

She ran down the stairs, heading for the boat, and he followed her with the others.

As they cut through rabid mages and their demons, he wondered if this was the future of whole Thedas. That this was what things would be like now: mages running and killing everything in their way without a second thought, accompanied by demon armies they summoned.

He smiled bitterly at the thought that the Templars were to the mages what the Grey Wardens to the darkspawn. Not coincidentally, mages had been responsible for the existence of darkspawn. Fenris could only hope they didn’t unleash anything worse this time.

From the boat, they could see the city on fire. This was war. War against evil. Against demons. Against mages. He could only hope the mages wouldn’t win and turn the whole South into a copy of Tevinter.


	9. Superstition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A clash between Andrastian-raised city elf, and a turned-Dalish elf.

Eeyo finished his work, and held it higher in the light to take a good look at it. He was satisfied with the final result, even though it wasn’t perfect. The wood he’d sculpted it from was soft, so easy to model, but sometimes too easy, and in a few places he’d cut too deep.

“That’s a strange crow. A bit on a chubby side,” Fenris said.

“It’s not a crow, it’s an owl.”

“An owl?”

“Falon’Din’s owl.” Eeyo pointed to his _vallaslin_.

Fenris only grunted in reply, then returned to his book. Eeyo squinted at him.

“You’re going to put it on a shelf, then pray to it spread flat on your belly?” the Tevinter mocked him.

“Is that the position you take when you go to a chantry?” Eeyo fired back.

“I don’t go to a chantry.”

“C’mon! You think we don’t know? Hide your secrets from strangers, but you can’t hide them from us.”

Fenris put the book away. “What’s your point?”

“What is yours? You mock me for… not praying to your _shem_ god?”

The Tevinter sighed. “At least that ‘ _shem_ god’ is real.”

“How do you know that, exactly?”

“He created the Blight. It’s something very tangible.”

“And how do you know it wasn’t any of the elven gods that humans just renamed and re-appropriated? They like stealing elven stuff.”

Fenris leant forward, and Eeyo knew a verbal punch back was coming.

“I have heard one of the Tevinter magisters talking about his trip to the Maker’s seat. He was there. He became one of the first darkspawn. It’s a fact. What facts do you have? Or just half-forgotten legends without substance?”

“Ivvie has met two elven gods,” Eeyo said with a smug smile of satisfaction. “One was Fen’Harel. The other Mythal.”

Fenris’s left eyebrow raised. “He has?”

“Fen’Harel was part of his Inquisition team, but he hadn’t know that at that time. Mythal was living in a body of a human woman…” He searched memory for a moment. “Flamin, Flemin, or something like that.”

The Tevinter’s eyes opened wide. “Flemeth!”

“Yes, that’s it!”

Eeyo watch the other elf frowning, and thinking hard about something with his head inclined to a side.

“I met Flemeth,” he said eventually. “I could tell she was more than a regular mage… But not more than that.”

“How can you deny our gods after meeting one!” Eeyo’s anger surprised even him.

Fenris only harrumphed irritated, grabbed his book, and returned to reading. Eeyo felt he’d won that argument, but somehow didn’t feel a satisfaction from this victory.

Maybe because it wasn’t a victory.


	10. Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Zevran did his job well...
> 
> But sometimes too well.

“Zevran, isn’t it?” the master asked. It was the first time that he referred to him by name, instead of ‘elf’. Zevran nodded. “Well done!” The master patted his shoulder. “Well done indeed!”

Zevran forced a cheerful smile. “The honour of the Crows was at stake!”

“And you saved it. You have a future, indeed!”

And then he left, leaving Zevran alone in the small room.

The fake smile faded away. He took his dagger, intending to clean it, but instead stared at it; at the blood it was covered with.

Not everything had gone according to the plan. He’d thought it’d be easy, he’d thought it’d be quick. He’d thought it’d be a success. The intel had revealed the mark was supposed to be alone, his family away, his servants celebrating their day off. An easy job, no?

What it hadn’t revealed was that he had a lover and a child with her. What it hadn’t revealed was that his servants had days off when his wife was away, so that he could spend family time with his lover and their child without anyone discovering he had another family.

Zevran’s eyebrows drew together in a frown of regret. A heavy sigh left his chest. He always tried to carefully prepare to avoid such situations, but this time he’d miscalculated. This time he’d had to do what he hoped to never have to do again.

“You did it, you little rascal!” Taliesen entered the room with a bottle of something. “Let’s celebrate! You deserve it!”

“What kind of polish did you bring this time, hmm?” Zevran asked him, suspiciously eyeing the beverage.

“It’ll burn you from inside out, as it should, haha!”

They sat on the bed, and shared the bottle. It tasted like rotten onions, but Zevran hoped it’d kill this day, so he drank. He laughed at Taliesen’s jokes. He told a few of his. They shared their recent bed conquests, trying to outdo the other one in describing what naughty things they’d done. He even cleaned his dagger.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough, though.


	11. Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during "A Crow's Daughter" story when Zevran went to Fenris asking to be allowed to hide in his mansion for a while. Their first night together.

Zevran sat up and looked at the elf next to him. It has been such a long time since he’d touched anyone in this way.

He remembered enjoying physical pleasures so much. He’d wanted to bed every pretty face he saw, and had done all his best to make that happen. Life was short, and in his line of work would be even shorter than average. He expected nothing, so he wasn’t disappointed when nothing was what life served him.

But all those pleasures were pale in comparison with true intimacy he’d experienced with Nimloth. Being in love gave all those fun games depth and different meaning. After her death… Well… Nothing and no one appeared interesting. Pretty people had been good enough for verbal love sparring, but his interest in bedding anyone had been gone. He’d felt like he’d dirty Nimloth’s memory.

The only person who could break that – he thought – was Nadami. He’d been thinking of her more often recently. Hadn’t seen her for years. For all he knew she could have found someone by now, and be happy with another man. While he’d be happy for her, the thought also filled him with a feeling of a loss. Of something that could be glorious, but he wasted his chance.

Still, in spite of those growing feelings, they still weren’t strong enough to act upon them. Or perhaps it was fear that she could be with someone, and the last of his dreams would be shattered.

When he’d come here to seek help from Fenris, he was happy to let the handsome elf know of his attractiveness, but as usual in the last decade, it would end on words.

Fenris was not what he’d expected. There was a sense of humour hiding behind his frown. There was a lot of pain in his past Zevran wished he could take away, and teach him how to enjoy life to the fullest before more pain came. The Antivan truly enjoyed these last few days spent in the company of the Tevinter warrior.

But what he had not seen coming was Fenris’s need of… He didn’t know what. He knew the Tevinter had just found out he’d been cheated on; he was hurt, aching, angry, and disappointed. Zevran hadn’t thought that those feelings would turn into desire. He didn’t know whether Fenris was looking for a distraction – an effective one, to be sure – or there was more…

More…

He looked at the sleeping elf again. The deep frown wrinkle above his nose showed he spent a lifetime of being angry. He was professional at anger. But it’s not anger Zevran now saw. The peaceful expression of the sleeping man made him smile. He raked aside long bangs off Fen’s forehead.

More…

Was he capable of more? It’s been such a long time…

Nimloth wouldn’t want him to be alone for the rest of his life. She’d want him happy.

After chasing pleasure all his youth, Zevran felt pleasure alone was not enough any more. He needed a connection now. He could sleep with anyone, but for it to be satisfying, it couldn’t be just anyone.

His Crow training protested. It was wrong to feel like this.

This meant nothing. Fenris probably wanted a revenge on Hawke for cheating on him. That was all, yes?

Yes?

More…

Suddenly the thought of going on his way, leaving this house, leaving Fenris behind, felt like a punch in the heart.

A decade. For a decade he didn’t want anyone.

Now he felt like he couldn’t without him.

How was that possible?

More…


End file.
